


In a World of Facades

by Mortals_In_Denial13



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angels, Angst, Apocalypse, Dystopia, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Original Character Death(s), POV First Person, Suicide, Trees, feathers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 15:39:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17686265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mortals_In_Denial13/pseuds/Mortals_In_Denial13
Summary: Angels have invaded and the end is nigh. Yara struggles to keep herself and her little sister alive in the darkest of times.* written in first person





	In a World of Facades

**Author's Note:**

> Hi you guys! First things first, WARNING: this does contain the death of several characters and suicide, so if this is harmful to anyone's well being please don't continue. Also, this was something I wrote years ago. It's probably not very good and to be honest I haven't really looked over it since. BUT I figured why the hell not and decided to post it here. So without further a due, I present In a World of Facades.

It's the year 2189, and the world's gone to hell- literally. After the angels got fed up with humanities' mistakes, they unanimously decided that if they were to take over the reins, they would be able to do a much better job. This is exactly what the angels tried to do nearly a century ago. First, they brought storms, fires, and plagues, then they thought they could come in and 'clean up' the rest themselves. By this, I mean that they were going to kill the rest of humanity. However, humans have proven to be as persistent and annoying as cockroaches.

Persistent, because we have adapted and become adept at scurrying into dark holes to avoid being killed. Annoying, because the United Rebels have continued their attacks on angel forces using our puny human weapons. It can be seen as stupidity that we fight, losing more people every time we do when we know that we will always fail. But our stupidity is also the beauty of humanity, we will not give up no matter what the odds are. We have an amazing ability to withstand even the darkest and coldest of nights with our simple flame of hope.  
This, however, doesn't make the fact that we live in the shadows of our ancestors' works any less true. We are constantly running and hiding in fear of being caught by the demons disguised in beauty we call angels. I hate that the existence we call life isn't really living. I know that we could be so much more than what we have been reduced to. The stories my great nan would whisper in the dark to my sister, Brighton, and I, were tales full of passion, and love, and... life.

Then two years ago my great nan contracted one of the deadly angelic plagues that has killed most of the population and took my mother with her to the grave. They left me alone to take care of my sister. The world got impossibly darker after that- after the love, the laughter, and the stories disappeared.

In the beginning, it was hard, adjusting to new roles, new responsibilities. I became both mother and sister for Brighton. I was responsible for making sure that she was fed, that she was clothed, loved and that she was safe- even at the cost of myself. After months of not knowing how to comfort my sister at the loss of her two main sources of love and affection. After weeks of sleepless nights of being resentful, bitter even, that I had to carry such a burden, wondering if I was going to have to skip another meal so Brighton could be content. After all of this, it finally eased and the laughter and love returned. The world became just a little brighter.

And I guess that is where my story begins, with me stupidly running straight into danger to avenge a wrong done unto my family. This reckless act, consequently, brought both salvation and destruction to my world.  
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I wake up with a quiet groan that echoes in the large hall we slept in last night, my neck is sore from sleeping upright against the sleek concrete wall. Around me is the cold, lifeless walls built by the People of Before, made over a century ago. All buildings are concrete and have been ever since the trees went extinct, or so my great nan said. However, I think these 'trees' are just a fairy tale she made up to keep us entertained. Never in my seventeen years of life have I ever seen any plant grow larger than three feet, but Brighton loves the idea, so I keep the stories alive.

I shook my head as if to cast the mindless thoughts out. It worked and that's when I realized that I couldn't hear Brighton's soft snores fill the air. I cursed her inability to sit in one spot for more at a time under my breath before getting to my feet. She's lucky I love her, or I would have left her behind a long time ago.  
I look around at the entirety of the first floor, not bothering to look outside yet because I know that Brighton knows better than that. Brighton isn't suicidal enough to risk going outside for an adventure. She would have at least told me before leaving if she did go out. I find no trace of her on the bottom floor, and in an effort to stay well in denial, I search two stories up as well. She is not in the building and I'm going to kill her once I know she hasn't been kidnapped.

I resist the urge to take my frustrations out on a nearby wall and walk as calmly as I can into the early morning. With the sun barely peeking out of the horizon, its purple light casts a haunting glow on the city laid out in front of me. It looked the same as always, dead and desolate, but I couldn't help a chill that ran up my spine at the sight of it.

I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard a giggle ring through the air. I sighed both in relief and in annoyance, that giggle could only belong to one, soon to be dead, little sister. I may have to rethink my earlier assessment of Brighton not being suicidal.  
I followed the giggle until I set my eyes on my sister's short blond hair bouncing up and down as she runs. I found her in a nearby alley and I stood at the entrance of it, waiting for her to notice me. She didn't, and with great pleasure, I cleared my throat loudly. She startled so badly that she tripped over herself, landing on the floor with a resounding thump. She looked frightened up until the point she saw me chuckling at her, then she just glared at me cutely.

"Yaaaara," she complained, drawing out my name, "Why do you have to be so mean?"

"Well, sister of mine, it makes my heart swell with joy as I watch your face light up in terror," I reply, knowing that it would annoy her before becoming serious. "Brighton, how could you be so reckless, coming out here during the day by yourself?"  
"You do it all the time," she replies and she looks as if she is about to say more but I cut her off. "I know," I sigh, " Just, next time tell me that you're leaving so I don't go out of my mind with worry, ok?"

"Fine," she muttered back her assent in a way only a preteen could.

"What were you chasing anyway?" I ask, only somewhat curious, but wanting to steer the conversation to something lighter. It was then that she opened her hand to reveal a large white feather that looked impossibly soft. I felt my stomach drop- it was an angel's feather. Where there is a feather, there is an angel close by.

"Brighton!" I nearly shout, "What the hell? That's an angel feather, stupid." She quickly dropped the feather and looked up at the sky to see if she could spot anything. I looked as well, but as she opened her mouth to apologize, I grabbed her hand and began pulling us in the direction of the building we were staying in.  
Without saying a word we quickly packed what little supplies we had and left without a second glance. We did the only thing we could. We ran. We ran until the building we used as a shelter was no longer in sight. Once we had stopped, we found a place that was isolated enough to offer protection but not enough to make it noticeable. I took a look around to ensure there was no one else in the building, and only then did I allow my anger to boil over.

I whirl around, fixing her with a cold stare, waiting silently. Only a few seconds passed before she broke down murmuring, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," over and over again. I let my gaze soften before crouching down to where she sat after her legs gave out. I wrap her in a gentle hug, whispering assurances in her ear until she fell into a restless sleep.

It was when I laid her down fully, brushing her hair out of her face, that I noticed she seemed a bit too warm for comfort. I then dismissed the fact, reasoning that she was probably warm from the running we did earlier, or her mini breakdown. Still, I frowned, maybe I should keep an eye on her, just in case.  
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Later that day, when the sun was beginning its disappearance once more into the horizon, Brighton was asleep and I was keeping a lookout. With a small knife in hand, I was constantly checking our surroundings. I felt uneasy as if we were being watched. If there was one thing that you never do in this hellish world, it's ignoring your instincts. So with that, I began preparing to stay up during the night to make sure nothing comes near us. I was about to settle down against a wall when I heard a piercing whistle. It was high and long and it could only mean one thing- the rebels.

Damn it. I sighed through my nose aggressively, I thought we had been careful enough to avoid both angels and humans alike. I had been warned from an early age by both my cautious mother and free-spirited great nan that I was to avoid other humans, especially rebels, as much as I was able to. My mom and great nan argued about a lot of things, but this was something both women agreed upon, humans can be just as bad as the angels.

It made sense to stay away, humanity became decidedly less human after the angels came. It was survival of the fittest through and through. While many live under the façade of being 'United' under one cause, I can guarantee you that if it was needed, those same people you called comrades the day before, would slit your throat without hesitation.

This was something Brighton never understood about humans. She thought that we should band to together like good old pals to defeat the evils of the world. She has always been a dreamer, the one to think optimistically.

However, I knew if I were to ignore their summons now, they would come in here and turn us into pawns to be used and discarded without a second thought. Therefore, I stood up quietly, as to not wake Brighton, and walked outside.

Slowly, four figures emerged from the shadows, but there is only one of them that I recognized. "Makai," I greeted less than enthusiastically, "Come to ask if I would like to join you, Uniteds, again? You already know what my answer will be, it has not changed."

Makai chuckled lowly, appraising me with his cobalt blue eyes.  
"Hun, I've long since stopped hoping you'd say yes to our offers, but we all have our marching orders. So, what do ya say?" I'm silent as I give him a blank stare, he chuckles again. "Well if that's your final answer, you know the drill," he speaks once more. I do indeed know 'the drill'. It includes me giving up half of our already meager supplies to keep us free of the rebellion. Wordlessly, I walk to the entrance of the building, only stopping to glare when he tries to follow me in. He backs away, hands mockingly in surrender, and I walk in to gather the supplies.  
I return, with supplies in hand, promptly. He takes them from me, his hand lingering on mine a little too long for my tastes, then he slips back into the shadows. His goons follow him swiftly, leaving me alone in front of the abandoned building.

It's dark now and Brighton should be awake, wanting food. I walk inside and see that she is indeed awake, but I take notice that something isn't right. Her face is pale, gleaming with sweat and her beautiful chocolate eyes are glazed over. Brighton's breathing is labored and everything suddenly seems too familiar.  
Then it hits me like a sucker punch and my ability to breathe has stopped working. Mom. Great nan. Flashbacks of those horrible days are at the forefront of my mind and this is how it started. The disease that took them only began with a fever and feeling lethargic.

The shock wears off and I'm suddenly fighting against waves of tears and panic that threaten to leave me immobile. "No, no, no..." I frantically mutter under my breath, "This is not happening again. Not again!" I fight the urges that tell me to both run far away and run directly to her. I need to be with her, but I have to take precautions.

I wear old mitten gloves on my hands and wrap a t-shirt around my lower face to reduce the chance of getting infected. I walk forward quickly and hold her tightly as she hunches over. She's coughing now, and I can see the pain and the fear written plainly across her face. She remembers the sickness from mom and great nan. She knows what is to come and that somehow makes it all the worse.

I stay with her that night, watching as she struggles to breathe- to live. I hate knowing that I am helpless to prevent what will inevitably happen. The disease progressed over the next few days, and I was by her side through every painful minute of it until nearly a week later she's gone.

Her innocence. Her beating heart. Her laughter. All of it. Just gone. Nothing but memories that only I am left to remember.  
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In the end, I burned her. The flames, made from a blow torch, turned her and everything she owned into smoke in the wind. All that is left now, are the ashes that lay on the cement ground and the stench of burnt flesh lingering in the air.

After she died, I couldn't find it within me to feel anything. It didn't matter that I had barely eaten, barely slept since she left me completely alone. Now, after burning what remains of her, all I can feel is anger, so much anger. Anger at her for leaving, anger at myself for not seeing it sooner, and most of all hate at the ones to blame for every moment of my existence without her- the angels.

I could feel myself losing what little innocence I had left, the portion that Brighton had kept alive all of these years. I look down at my hands and see the one thing to remind me of what I've lost. A simple bracelet rests on the palm of my hand. It has four silver hoops intertwined with each other and the band holding the bracelet together is a deep green. The green is supposed to represent hope for a better future and each of the four hoops is a member of what used to be my family. Brighton always held onto the dream that the two of us would survive long enough for us to create our own families.

A sob is ripped from my throat at the thought. Why did it have to be her? It should have been me! It should have been me. I'm going to kill every last one of those so-called angels.  
I slip on the bracelet before determinedly moving out into the cover of night. There's someone I needed to see.  
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Makai found me long before I found him, just as I knew he would. He opened his mouth for a smart comment, but before he could I said two words that I knew I would probably come to regret, "I accept."

His mouth clicked shut in surprise and blinked once, before grinning. "I knew you would come around eventually. Really, hun, it was only a matter of time. Now, where's is that little bundle of energy, you call your sister?" I didn't reply, and my silence was apparently an answer enough, because all he said was, "Ah. I see, well, follow me."

And with that, he turned around and slipped back into the shadows, not even checking to see if I was following. I was.  
I had just joined the rebellion of cockroaches. There was no turning back. There can be no doubts.  
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It took a good half an hour to arrive at what looked like an abandoned warehouse. From what I could see, there were no guards but I could feel their assessing gazes on the back of my neck. I shudder before speeding up to catch up with Makai, who had sped along without me.

We reached a steel door that had no handles, only a small slit about eye level. I was expecting someone to come to the door immediately but no one did. Makai only stood there, and as the minutes dragged by, a grin appeared on his face. I was about to open my mouth to demand if this was supposed to be a joke when he saw my clenched fists and wisely began to speak.

"From the sky, a bird flies leaving only a feather in its wake," and the door was opened. I stare at him in disbelief, all he had to do was speak a password. I was in no mood for any humor but I kept silent anyways. Makai was my only way in and it wouldn't help for me to punch him.

We both walked inside and I had to blink to adjust to the change in lighting. Once my eyes are able to see, the first thing I noticed was the sheer number of people crowded in front of me. The second thing that I saw was that they were all looking forward. I followed their gazes to a raised stage at the back of the warehouse.

There, stood a bulky looking man that seemed to be made of pure muscle and nothing more. It was then that I registered that he was addressing the crowd in front of him, he was probably a leader of the United Rebels. I walked closer to hear him better.  
"-we must stand United despite our failures and mistakes. I know that you are scared but we need more volunteers for the recon and infiltration missions. I need those that are clear-headed and prepared to take every risk. I would not ask this of you if I did not think it was necessary. You may sign up with Miss Everhart by the main entrance," there was indeed a petite woman with blonde hair standing near me, "You're dismissed." And with that final command, the crowd dispersed. Surprisingly the brave rebels avoided the sign up like it was the plague.

"Those missions are suicidal, and most people have lost hope that they would ever succeed by going," I startle when Makai seemingly read my mind. "Now, let me get you settled- hey! What are you doing?"

I had walked away from him, turning toward Miss Everhart. "I want to volunteer," I said bluntly, not bothering with any pleasantries. She looks at me incredulously. She's probably wondering what mental affliction I had. A deep chuckle resounds behind me and I whirl around to see the man who was previously on the stage. He's smiling grimly at me, most of his yellowing teeth showing.

"Now, little lady, why do you think no one is volunteering for this mission," he asks, but then answers his own question before I could even think of a response, "It's because they have loved ones that they want to want to live for. What do you think your family is thinking, knowing that you would abandon them so easily?" I was positively seething at this point, the possibility that he made an honest mistake and couldn't have possibly known of my family's deaths hadn't even crossed my mind. Red film colors my vision, blinding me for just a moment.

The next thing I know, my fist is mysteriously hurting. My vision returns to me in time to see the man stumbling back, clutching his nose.

Oops... I fully expected that he would blacklist me from ever entering a rebellion camp again after this stunt but he had the audacity to start laughing. Large peals of laughter erupted from his mouth, and the crowd that had begun to form around us, stared at him as if he had grown two heads.

"Now, that is what we need for this job," he said out loud, speaking and looking at no one in particular. The man looked in my general direction only giving an impatient signal to follow before he walked away.

I stare at his retreating figure, scrambling to keep my balance when Makai shoves me forward. It's then that I wonder why people keep walking away from me and expect me to follow like some lost puppy. Maybe, because I am lost. I don't know what my purpose is anymore. So I obediently follow.

We pushed through the clumps of people, navigating our way back towards the stage. Behind it is a neat hallway with only one door. We stop in front of it for a second, pausing.

"The name's Ashton by the way," he says casually, as he pulls a necklace with a key hanging on it out from around his neck. "What's yours?"

"Yara," I answer shortly, not really wanting to converse with him. The newly dubbed, Ashton just nods and inserts the key into the lock on the door. He pushes open the door and with a swoosh of his arm, gestures for me to walk in first. He follows and closes the door behind him before walking to the round table in the center of the small room. He makes another gesture this time for me to sit down at the table.

Wearily, I do as suggested, all the while knowing that it would leave me in a vulnerable position to be attacked from. He ignores my mistrust, for now, in favor of speaking.

"How much do you know about the mission you just volunteered for?" He glances at my blank face and sighs heavily, but continues, "You will be going undercover as a human servant for the angels and to do that you'd-"

"What," I leap out of my chair and walk directly up to him, "is wrong with you people?"

"-have to get captured," he continues, as if my outburst hadn't occurred, "The hardest part is surviving your initial contact with the angels and then getting out of the compound once you have useful information. I'm going to make this very clear to you. No one has ever succeeded in this mission, but we need that information desperately. It will take you at least a couple of months to get any real information about the angels. It's a lot of risks and a lot of work, but I have a feeling that's why you signed up in the first place." I slowly nodded my head, only a very small part of me is actually concerned at the risk of death.

"Any questions? No? Well, then let's get started with training."  
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Four months later and I am ready. Originally, I wanted to head straight in, confident that I could fool anyone. But after an incident involving my first training lesson, where I got smacked every time they could tell I was lying, my misguided pride died a humiliating death.

I also learned how to create weapons with some objects that could be lying around. I learned that anything could be a weapon. That hammer lying on the ground could save your life if you know how to swing it. The cleaning supplies in the closet could be turned into explosives, helping you escape.

I've been released back into the streets for a week now and it wasn't until earlier today that I spotted a flock of angels. They landed somewhere nearby and I could feel them close. All that's left before my mission begins is getting caught and that's what I plan to do. I sneak around in the shadows until I see them.  
There's five in total, four males and one female, on the ground casually conversing between them. About what, I could not tell, but it didn't matter. I spot a metal tube near me and grin.

Perfect.  
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I wake up in a brightly lit room on the floor, shivering as the coolness seeped through my clothing. I sit up on the ground and from my lips, a groan escapes, echoing slightly in the empty room. My head is pounding as I try to remember exactly what stupid thing I did to end up here. Then I remember and I let myself fall back again. I should be grateful the angels didn't kill me right then and there.

I had run straight out of my cover in the shadows, towards the celestial beings, metal pipe in hand and a war cry on my lips. As hoped for, I was quickly detained but not before the female angel got smacked in the eye with my pipe. The male holding my arms back had gotten a kick out of that. Up until the point where I slammed my heel down on his toe, breaking it.

Even after all this, it wasn't until I had started screaming obscenities at them that they decided to knock me out. The last thing I remember is a fist flying towards me.

It was then that the door to my 'room' was opened. I lift my head to see a girl about twelve years old poke her head through. She gazed at me with sorrowful eyes and despite looking nothing like her, I can't help but be reminded of Brighton. I asked for her name but she impatiently gestured for me to follow her. It as I walk out of the room that was my temporary confinement, that I get my first glance at the angelic compound. It is large, elegant, and clean. Not a speck of dirt is in sight.

The ceiling arches, soaring above me. Its bold kaleidoscope of colors softened by the light hue of pastels mesmerize me. The paints on the ceiling canvass shift, as if it was breathing with a life of its own. The presence of the hall wrapped me in its embrace, cradling me. It does not seem real, this place. It's as if time stands still and I could watch the beauty above me until eternity ends.

As I let my eyes drink in the sight of my surroundings, I stop walking, completely enraptured. My guide walks back to me silently and tugs insistently at my jacket sleeve. I am shaken from my reverie and chastise myself. I should not be so distracted by pretty paints. I have a mission.

She continues on after seeing that I have seen my fill of the ethereal room; I scramble to follow her. She leads me to a gray-haired woman with pained frown lines marking her face to match her equally tortured eyes. She was to be my supervisor while I worked in the compound.

My little guide left me then, and it's not until later in the evening, when I am laying on a cot in the servant's dormitory, that I realize I never did get her name.  
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Three months in and I still have not gathered any useful information besides that there is a corridor that servants aren't allowed in. The guards posted at the entrance of the hall rotate in shifts every four hours. Despite being in the compound that is meant to house angels, I have only seen a few of the said beings. This is mostly due to what my workload consists of cleaning up after all the angels left the vicinity.  
Every waking moment I am here is spent completing energy-consuming tasks. I sleep whenever I am able and still wake up more tired than I was before. I've long since traded spending time trying to create alliances with the other, uncooperative servants in favor of getting a few more precious seconds of sleep.  
Most of the servants here are as tired as I am, some even more so. This endless, monotonous existence is what the so-called angels have reduced us to; we are simply dead souls pretending to still be alive.  
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It's around month seven that I refuse to be silent or patient any longer. I risk my life for sake of curiosity. I have to find out what the angels are guarding in that corridor.

It's in the dead of night when I sneak out of the servant's dormitory into the dark halls of the compound. No one but the bare minimum of angels and humans are awake at this hour. It's because of this that I reach the entrance without seeing another soul. The guards are there, like always, but I have had their unchanging schedules and habits memorized since month two. I only have to wait a couple of minutes before the angels on duty leave to get some sleep, not bothering to wait for the next shift to come in.  
I stick to the shadows as I creep down the hall, completely silent in case of an angel lurking in the corridor. Halfway through, I am met with a single door. It is brown and has a strange texture to it, but I ignore it for now; it isn't important. Hesitantly, my hand reaches out to grasp the cool, gold knob and twists. The oddly brown door swings forward and I am instantly hit by a scent that reminds me of good memories. Memories of the rare times when my entire family would risk leaving the city for a few hours to find the only field of grass for miles. As I took in the scent, I involuntarily closed my eyes and stepped fully into the room.

I opened my eyes to something new. It stood there in the middle of the room, standing tall and silent, a steady presence. It was like an enormous hand, weathered with time and stained brown. The three largest fingers and the dozens of smaller fingers extending from them reached high above me to the open skylight in the ceiling. And in its palm, held thousands of little green butterflies that moved in the gentle breeze. It was beautiful and terrifying at the same time, for something in which life practically pulsated off of, to be so large. There are no words to fully describe this breathtaking scene before me.

I simply gazed at it for hours, hardly moving until I saw the barest hint of the sun's rays in the sky.  
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I was sitting on the floor near the bottom of the Hand, visiting for the dozenth time, when my luck at not getting caught, finally ran out. I had only been there for a few minutes when a warm voice sounded behind me.

"It's a beautiful thing, isn't it? This Tree," I startled, spinning around, heart racing. A tall figure stood there, leaning against the frame of the door, completely relaxed. It was an angel, and he had long, graceful wings spreading out behind him. They were the lightest shade of blue that I had ever seen and it contrasted deeply with his dark brown, almost black hair. From just underneath his bangs, amused steel gray eyes looked out at me.

I am frozen in fear and in panic, but I stammer out a response nevertheless, "Tre- tree? They're real? My... uh...my sister would have loved to know I was wrong." My hands are trembling, so I clench them into fists, not willing to show that I was afraid more than I already had.

"So I take it you aren't wrong often," is the angel's only response and a nervous chuckle escapes me. Somehow this comment turned into a tentative conversation, which morphed into multiple conversations. Eventually, a steady companionship was formed and I forgot that he was supposed to be my enemy.  
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It's been over a year since the mission first began and it's the furthest thing from my mind at this point. I have stopped looking for clues, stopped looking to destroy the angels and it's all Nathaniel's fault. I have given up every part of me to him and he has shared every part of himself with me. I have told him my fears, my nightmares, as he held me in his arms and wrapped me in his wings. He would whisper in my ear plans for the future, our future.

In our world of peace, I am content. The anger I once felt is tempered by his gentle reassurances. I was in love. It was because of this that everything, my responsibilities, my sister, most of my instincts, faded from my mind. And I let it happen. As a result, this is what ultimately destroyed me and saved the world.  
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Nate and I would always meet at the Tree at precisely 2 o'clock every night. So when he still hadn't arrived an hour and a half past the assigned time, I immediately thought the worst. That he had been caught. That his wings had been ripped from his back for his act of treason, loving a human.

With these thoughts in mind, I practically flew through the darkness in my haste to find him before something unspeakable happens. When I did find him though, it was purely by accident. A door had been left slightly open, allowing the barest hint of light to shine through.

I slowed to a stop near the door, noting mentally that this particular room belongs to Raphael, the closest person the angels have to a leader. Not hearing any sounds or movements, I was about to move one when a familiar voice stops me in my tracks.  
"I swear, she doesn't suspect a thing. She is completely ignorant of what the humans may know and any information about the angels," he says, his voice having taken on a strange, detached quality to it.

I stumble back, heart pounding, my breathing becomes shallow. Nate. No- it's Nathaniel now. I force myself to stay completely still and silent as I fall apart inside.

"-loved her. She is possibly one of the easiest targets I've ever been assigned to. She thinks she is infallible and invincible, but a few sweet words and she's putty in my hands," he said and from the ashes of my grief, anger rose again.

"Nonetheless," a cold voice replied to Nathaniel, it was Raphael, "it was reckless of you to continue seeing her in such a sacred place for angels. It didn't matter if she was reluctant to meet anywhere else, you should have made her. Our success and life source comes from that very Tree. It was almost treasonous for you to have allowed a human," the word is twisted in disgust, "to have been in its presence."

"Don't worry, we'll be rid of her soon. I swear on the Tree of Celestial Life that I will kill her before the week is out. Also, be assured that it won't be painless," Nathaniel swears and it's a voice I no longer recognized.

I know what I must do, and I know I only have a week to do it.  
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"Hello, Yara," Nathaniel calls, from where he standing by the door, to where I am standing by the Tree, "I've missed you all week. Where were you? I was worried."

Once upon a time, I would have believed the concern in his voice to be genuine, but now all I can hear is the memory of him promising to kill me. I plaster a smile upon my lips and turn to look at him, "Sorry. I had the late night shifts the past couple of days and I fell asleep before our usual meeting time." In reality, I've been stealing and gathering supplies for my plan. I had bided my time and now it's time to put it into motion.

I hug him, one last time, gathering strength for what I needed to do, and step back to be closer to the Tree. Silence reigns for a moment and I am facing the Tree, my back towards Nathaniel. Then I break the silence by asking casually, "How was your meeting with Raphael," there was no response, but I could feel his gaze burning a hole into the back of my head, "Oh, you don't remember? Let me refresh your memory." I slowly begin to unzip my jacket, "It's the one where you tore my heart out of my chest and made me stronger. It's the one where you revealed both what angels really are and their weaknesses," here I pause, letting my jacket fall in a heap by feet. My front is still facing the Tree, but I can hear that Nathaniel's breathing has turned harsh.

He takes a step forward.

"So, I guess I really must thank you. You're going to help me save the world," I turn to face him, revealing a bomb strapped to my chest, the timer set for five seconds. It was built out of cleaning supplies that I stole from the other servants. Only a split second has passed when I hear a scrape, signifying that Nathaniel's dagger has left his sheath, see a glint come towards me, and feel the blinding pain as it enters my abdomen. I was coherent enough to press the detonator for the bomb, before letting it slip through my hands.

5.

I fall backward, my head hitting the roots of the Tree. My blood begins to spill out from where I was stabbed, onto the ground beneath me.

4.

I hear Nathaniel's pounding footsteps race towards me. There's a pang in my heart when I come to the realization that it's the bomb he wants, not me.

3.

I let my gaze wander upward, passed the branches that hold a million green butterflies, to the open sky above me.

It's beautiful. My mouth fills with blood.

2.

I hear great nan's tales of love, passion, and life echo in my ears. I have finally felt it all. Unconditional love with Brighton. A passion to last a thousand years with Nathaniel. And life at this moment before death.

1.

I smile.

0.

The world explodes.  
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Epilogue:  
In the end, because there must always be an end, the bomb destroyed the Tree of Celestial Life, taking every angel it created with it to death. Weeks pass and slowly those hiding in the shadows of our ancestors realize that they were no longer haunted by angels. Slowly, the cockroaches that struggled to survive in the dark became humans once more.

The End.


End file.
